THE MAD SEASON
by SawyerDonovan
Summary: It should have been easy. Marry Four, have little Divergent babies and live happily ever after. But betrayed by the one who promised to love her above all others, Tris finds her life changed by the cold Dauntless leader she once feared and her dance with Eric has turned into something darker, deeper, something that could not be contained - something forbidden. (TrisxEric)
1. BED OF LIES

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Divergent, the book or characters, or Matchbox Twenty, the music and lyrics. Also the characters appearing in this story resemble the characters from the movie, because really, I love me some Jai Courtney!

" **Don't think that I can take another empty moment  
Don't think that I can fake another** **hollow smile  
It's not enough just to be sorry.** **"**

MATCHBOX TWENTY, BED OF LIES

SOMETIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE  
SATURDAY - 8:00 P.M.  
TRIS PRIOR

She stood, entranced, unable to look away from the scene unfolding in front of her. The resounding torrid echo of damp, naked flesh slapping in unison swirled through her mind, blackness threatening her blurred vision, a thin bubble of hysterical laughter rapidly swelling in her chest, the insistent pressure threatening to erupt the bile burning at the base of her throat.

Lauren smirked, leaning lower, her fingers gripping the comforter, her pale breasts bare in the yellow tinted light, moaning as he thrust into from behind, grunting at his excreted force.

Her fiancee. Her friend.

Fucking.

Her breath came out in short, shallow gasps, her heart pounding in a painful rhythm and she fought against her first instinct to turn and run, hide away from the scene playing out in front of her.

And then the rage grew. The freezing kind of anger, pure and deep, that numbed the pain of Four's betrayal. The rage had made it possible for her to think as she stepped further into the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind.

"Hello Four." Her words were cold, taunting, as his head snapped up, his eyes widening in panicked disbelief. Forgive me for interrupting, I didn't realize it was playtime.

* * *

SOMETIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE  
SATURDAY - 11:56 P.M.  
TRIS PRIOR

She stood on her small outside balcony, her arms protectively wrapped around her stomach, her tired gaze fixating on the darkness, allowing its silence to cloak her in its comfort. The hot breeze caught her long hair, the honey-colored strands clinging to her neck and cheeks in the thick, damp heat of the night.

She had showered, standing under the spray, allowing the water to wash over her as she cried, washing away Four's betrayal and her regret.

But here, now, standing in the darkness of the room with no one to judge her, she was forced to accept one fact.

She was no longer in love with the man she had agreed to marry. She had not been for sometime.

She didn't need him. She knew that now.

She had been hurt by his betrayal, embarrassed, but more angered that he seemed to enjoy the fact she finally caught him. That he was able to freely flaunt what she could no longer turn a blind eye too.

She had loved him. The man he once was.

He had been her prince. He had dazzled her, flattered her.

He had kept her secret as she had kept his.

It had been subtle at first. The snide comments, the demands, the digs.

His anger and jealously. His desire to change everything she was.

He had been furious, refusing to speak with her for weeks when she had chosen a Leadership role. A high-level position of handling interactions between the Factions and the intregation of the new initiates that kept her in almost constant close quarters with the Dauntless leader he depised.

Four had demanded she resign from her position immediately and that she transfer to Intelligence so he could watch over and protect her.

She didn't need his protection.

A fact he didn't seem to understand. She had gone beyond what everyone believed she was capable of doing. There were days that she never looked back.

Self-ridicule clogged her chest. She had taken what he chosen to give and was grateful for it.

Bleakly she wondered how she could have been so blind. How she could have wanted to be with someone who made her feel so small until she all but curled inside herself and disappeared.

She knew she no longer belonged with him.

She never had.

And for Tris Prior, waking to the truth was bittersweet.

Sighing to she shut the balcony doors, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget the day, forget this moment.

The knock on the front door surprised her. She didn't often ave visitors at midnight except for her occasional drunk best friend. She didn't want vistors, she thought, she wanted to be left alone. But the knocking stubbornly persisted.

She knew it wouldn't be Four. He was probably still comforting Lauren after Tris had dragged her from Four's bed, down through the Pit and left her naked, dangling by her fingertips off the bridge over the Chasm. And she had screamed, Tris thought gleefully. Screamed loudly at that.

Maybe it would be Max who would be proud of her actions, but at the same lecture her on the proper conduct of a Dauntless leader.

Tris glanced down at her black tank top and short black pajama shorts, shrugging with disinterest. Whoever it was would have the misfortune of dealing with her foul mood and lack of dress.

She pressed the touchscreen next to the door, her breath catching in surprise at the sight on the monitor of the young Dauntless leader, standing with his hands braced on the frame, head bent, blankly staring at the ground below him.

As if he could sense her presence, his hands coiled from flat against the door-frame into fists, heavy and solid. Muscles tensed and slid beneath the tattooed skin of his forearms, telling more clearly than words of the emotions seething in the man before her.

"Invite me in." He ordered lowly, his voice raspy.

Tris reached out automatically unlocking the door, but caught herself, hesitating.

She had been a pawn in his game before. What could he possibly want besides to gloat that he had indeed been correct about the almighty and virtuous Four.

"Tris, it wasn't a request." Eric Coulter warned. "Invite me in."

He raised his head, ignoring her sudden hiss of surprise as she wrenched the heavy door open at the sight of his blood coating the side of his face, the crimson color staining the leadership tattoos on his neck from the jagged cut above his left eye.

She heard him suck in his breath - not from annoyance - rather that of an animal snarling, bristling with rage as he stalked through her front door. His tense body rippled with an involuntary motion of a predator poised, adrenaline pumping.

Cold, emotionally detached, manipulative was his nature. He never did anything with a reason. Acting with little regard for what was proper, every movement was done with a purpose. Arrogant with a reckless charm that obscured a dark sensuality that was both intriguing and frightening.

Something that women desired and men despised.

She was certain of one fact.

Eric Coulter was the most dangerous man she has ever known.

And he was bleeding on her doorstep at midnight. Fuck her life.

"What happened to you?" Tris demanded, reaching out, her fingers brushing against the swelling rapidly forming along his chiseled jawline. "Who did this?"

He said nothing as he shrugged off her hand, walking past her into the dimly lit living room, wincing slightly as he grasped his ribs, lowering his battered body to the edge of her couch.

"Eric?"

Tris forced herself to breathe deeply, attempting to ease the pressure in her chest, ignoring the unease that licked at her as she stared at the abnormally silent Dauntless leader. Realizing he had no intention to answer her, she shut the door, quickly going to her bathroom to gather what medical supplies she had.

Something had happened, she knew. Something that had shaken him enough to avoid the Med Bay and come to her instead.

Setting a bowl of warm water of the table, she knelt in front of him, her hands clasping the material of his tattered grey shirt, pulling the remains over his head, dropping it forgotten to the side, gasping at the damage to his upper body revealed to her.

Angry purple and dark red bruises creating a kaleidoscope of color, curving across his ribcage to the solid wall of his abdomen rippled.

Eric sighed, his gaze avoiding hers, focusing on a point past her shoulder on the wall. He could feel the warmth spreading as her fingers ghosted over his aching flesh and while he was tempted to snap at her, he knew she would stop touching him if he did.

She worked in silence ignoring his occasional hiss of pain as she bound his bruised ribs and cleaned the dirt and dried blood from his hands, smoothing antiseptic across the cracked flesh, wrapping the white bandages around each set of knuckles.

He was taunt, tensed, his breathing harsh as she slightly shifted back examining his face, gnawing on her lower lip.

"You need stitches." she said finally. "The cut above your eye is too deep."

"Then do it."

"I'll call Will," she told him, thinking of her best friend's boyfriend, who taken a position in the Med Bay. "He's better equipped to handle it."

"If I would have wanted the boy pretending to be a doctor to jab and prod at me, I would have gone to him." Eric growled harshly, scrubbing his hands across his cheeks. "Now stop wasting my damn time, get the needle and thread."

"Wasting your time? Really? I'll tell you what princess. There's the fucking door. Use it." Tris snapped, her voice rising in disbelief. Her eyes sparkled with bad temper as she stood, pointing to the door. "I'm not in the mood for your shit tonight. Save me men and their little mood swings."

"Today initiate." His tone sounded almost bored at her rant.

Tris swung back around to face him at the sound of the once familiar command, her sharp retort dying as she found him steadily holding her gaze, amusement threatening to the crinkle the corners of his intense eyes.

"You're an ass."

His rough laughter followed her as she opened the medical cabinet, removing her kit containing the needle and thread as well the syringe containing the last dose of pain medication she received after fracturing her wrist and being left with a concussion due to an incident with a few rogue Factionless.

"Planning to poison me?" Eric asked carelessly, flickering a disinterested glance towards the needle in her hand.

"Yes, I plan on putting you out of your misery so I can get some sleep tonight." A smile curved her lips as she stepped between his outstretched legs. "Or maybe it's just my generous nature to give this to you to take the edge off in case my hand is not so steady." He tilted his head to the side, allowing her to inject the substance into his neck.

He reached up, grasping her hipbones, burying his face into the softness of her lower stomach, causing her to catch her breath in surprise, a spark of electricity raced over her skin at his touch and she jerked back slightly causing his grip to immediately tighten.

Against her will, her fingers slid through the strands of his hair, twirling them against her fingers as she felt the strength of his hand. He tilted his head back, staring directly into her eyes, curiosity flickered over his face, making her blood rush hot through her veins. Time hung suspended, as she waited for the pain medicine to take effect and soon his body relaxed, his gaze drooping slightly.

"Are you sure about this, Eric." Tris asked softly, trying to ignore the feelings of his rough fingers sliding over the smooth flesh of her hips. "Last chance."

"I trust you."

Her breathe came out stead, strengthening her as she pierced his flesh, drawing the pieces of the torn flesh together, into a neat row of stitches.

She was careful as she bandaged the area, cleaning the side of his face, gently running the cloth over his neck, shoulders and onto his chest to the silky line of hair running down the middle of his stomach below his naval before disappearing beneath the band of his pants.

He had come to her as if he knew she would not turn her back to this even though her world had changed drastically in a matter of moments, but instead tend to his wounds like she had done in the past.

His coming made what they were real, it was raw.

"So, you've avoided the question long enough and now I want my answers." Tris ordered, her tone even, deep shadows of exhaustion under her eyes. "What happened to you?"

"It's none of your concern." His board shoulder gleamed under the light, the skin taunt and supple as he shrugged, his spine running a deep hollow down the center of his back, and her fingers curled inwards, her nails biting into her palms at his words.

"It s none of my concern?" She repeated as thoughts trembled and raced through her mind. "You show up bleeding, order me around and it's none of my concern?"

But she knew Eric refusing to answer her always meant one thing.

Four.

"Fucking unbelievable. You two are so ridiculously predictable. So, tell me, what was it this time?" She asked. "Issues with your leadership skills? Someone steal the last piece of Dauntless. Wait, I know, maybe he fucked a girl you liked."

Eric kept his eyes on the girl leaning against the wall, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, darling." he said. "Who said number boy and I have an issue."

His words caused her tapered chin to tilt upwards in a stubborn challenge.

She had certainly changed from the meek first jumper on Initiation Day.

The woman facing him didn't lack self-confidence, and she didn't appear to be the least intimidated by him now no matter his temper or situation.

She had always given him what he challenged, what he demanded of her.

Eric recognized that fact immediately, so intense, so potent; he felt it thickening in his blood and his lower body.

She was small, almost delicately built, high-planned cheekbones, and her mouth...her fucking smart-ass mouth.

There was nothing he wanted more than to crush her mouth fiercely to his own to feel the pure, primitive triumph at the evidence of her own arousal.

"What are you playing at, Eric?" She interrupted softly, thrusting an agitated hand through her hair, resisting the urge to yank of it in frustration. "I want the truth."

"You think this is some sort of game?"

"Of course, it is. It always has been. Whether I've wanted to play or not." She snapped as he stood, laughing harshly, his gaze searing her. "Anything you and Four can do to one up the other. Who can maneuver me the best. It just depends on whose ego ends up bruised the fastest."

She let out an unsteady breathe as he stalked towards, her gaze focusing on the pulse that throbbed visibly in the hollow of his throat. Her back met the wall as he imprisoned her between the cage of his arms and his body.

"You would side with your boy toy." He said in a decepitively mild tone. Anger darkened his face, a hard smile twisted his lips. "Saint Four can do no wrong even if he fucks your friend."

Eric watched as she bit her full lower lip, drawing it between her teeth. Her fingertips trailed across the curve of his ribcage before resting on his lower stomach, the solid muscle rippling at the contact.

His face was so hard and intense that it looked brutal. His eyes narrowed and molten, the color a deep, hot silvery blue. He leaned down slightly, running his bandaged knuckles down her cheek, his fingers tracing over her smooth skin, the other slipping beneath her tank top, pushing the material up.

"I thought we were past that bullshit. My mistake." Her eyes were dark and hot, her cheeks flushed. "Tell me what happened."

"Does it matter?" he spat from behind clenched teeth.

"Yes, it does matter when you show up bleeding at my door. Did he hurt your feelings?" Tris taunted. "Leave you almost too broken to move? Did he win?"

"Watch it Tris." He warned, his voice was clear and cool in the dead silence of the room. It was easy to see the violence of temper lying just beneath the surface.

"Then tell me," she demanded. "I don't know what you expect me to say."

He owed her the truth.

"It was about you," he finally said in not much more than a whisper. "Each time I fight him, it's about you."

Her breathe hitched slightly at his words, her lower lip trembled.

"I was in the training room, minding my own fucking business." He gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Four and few of his friends showed up and decided to be obnoxious. Apparently, the stupid bastards thought it would be easier since I was alone."

Tris remained silent, raising her eyebrows, waiting for him to finish his story.

"It was about you. About how he finally broke you. That we would be pulling your body from the chasm by morning. It really didn't get any further after that. He won't be out of the Med Bay for a few days. His friends either."

He would never admit the unease, almost terror like quality he had felt twist through his stomach upon hearing Four's words. Not that he expected her to jump.

He had had no choice. Nothing would stop him from the fight, nothing would have stopped him from coming to her tonight, to make sure that Four had not broken her as he had claimed to do.

The bastard would never touch her again.

He wouldn't allow it.

"And then you came to me." her voice was small.

To make sure you're still breathing, he thought silently.

"Is that really a question?"

She knew it wasn't. He had defended her. Again.

"Why didn't you tell me he cheated? You knew."

"Would you have believed me?"

"It wasn't just Lauren. He told me there were others. Each to teach me a lesson." She said quietly. "Some lesson."

"Tris, fuck him." Eric's tone roughened. "He failed you."

"Did I really love him?" she whispered. "I'm beginning to wonder."

"Four's not the life you want. You want to take chances, risks like me. You want excitement, passion," Eric pushed a stand of hair behind her ear, his fingers slowly grazing her cheek as he tilted her head back, gazing into her luminous eyes. She shivered slightly at his touch as he lazily caressed her gloss stained mouth with this thumb. "Lust."

He knew her. Whether she wanted to admit it or not. He knew her.

He described perfectly what she wanted from life.

It was why she had chosen to leave her protected, sheltered life for Dauntless.

She had always believed she was destined to be ordinary. Perhaps she had been born to follow the rules. That she should have been content with what her life offered her instead of always trying to peek around the corner.

But one test had changed that.

Her results had proven that a simple life was no longer an option.

Eric had changed that.

He made her question her life, challenge what she believed she deserved.

"I think I always knew that he didn't love me, that he just wanted to control me, mold me into what he wanted. But I ignored it." She gestured helplessly to the side. "Am I really that selfish for love?"

"I think you're that human." His voice was soft, a deep rumble, sending a small shiver through her, a quivering tension began coiling in the depth of her stomach as she raised her eyes to his.

She was seared by his glance, which surveyed and approved.

He knew and was all the more dangerous for that knowledge.

"But so am I." Eric murmured roughly, his tone intimate before she could guess his intention, he dipped his head and his mouth, warm and hard touched the bare curve of her neck. "I am that human."

His hand tightened around her waist to pull her closer so that she mutely aware of the strength of his thighs as his legs moved against her. Her fingers clenched restlessly on his shoulder, the muscle rippling beneath.

His left hand buried itself in her hair, holding her head still, and his mouth plundered hers demanding, wanting and wet. Stubble rasped against her and she was helpless to stop him, to deny him this.

She parted her lips willingly to the demand of his tongue, giving a tiny sigh of bliss as she curled herself against him, slowly tasting him, twining her arms around his neck and shoulders, pressing her breasts into the hard contour of his chest.

She kissed him with fire and delicacy, offering herself simply to him.

She was that weak.

She was this human.

She could almost feel his fury and frustration and something more, carefully buried needs in his taste as his mouth lifted a fraction of an inch above hers, his breath irregular.

Why can t you be what I expected? he muttered, lowering his head.

"Eric...no." She managed to turn her head, her breathing ragged. "We can't."

"We can and we will." He pushed away from her. "But not tonight."

Tris drew in a deep breath, admitting to her that she had been hiding in the bathroom for the better of twenty minutes as she stepped out. In her mind either enough time for Eric to pass out on her couch or stumble back to her apartment if he wanted to make the effort.

She followed the trail of his boots and socks to his black pants down the hallway and when she entered her bedroom she found him lying on her bed clothed in only his boxers, the pain medication finally taken its full effect.

His powerful body was relaxed, all long bones and hard muscles. One arm dangled off the side of the bed, but his other hand lay relaxed on his chest. His black lashes were dark smudges on his cheekbones. His lips parted softly as he let out a sigh of contentment.

"Lay down Tris. Your thoughts are giving me a headache."

"I don't think..."

"Lay down," he ordered. "Before I come to get you."

Eric s warm skin pressed against her, the strength, the contoured muscles of his chest protecting her weakness, his head dropping to her shoulder. His sandy hair tickled her skin, heating at the brush of his lips. His arms surrounded her, coiling her into his embrace, their fingers brushed softly before clasping hers, intertwining.

They fit. Perfectly.

"There's something else" he whispered, his voice drowsy. "I dream about you."

Her mouth dried her core clenching.

"Eric...what..." she stammered. What did you say?"

"I dream about you." he repeated, his forehead resting on her shoulder. "And I wake up knowing how you'll taste."

" **Don't think that I could take another talk about it** **"**


	2. MAD SEASON

_Thanks so much for all the reviews and follows. Sorry I had to make Four the bad guy but for this story it works so well!_

 **DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Divergent, the book or characters, or Matchbox Twenty, the music and lyrics.

 **"When the whole mad season comes around  
So why you gotta stand there looking like the answer now  
It seems to me you come around"**

MATCHBOX TWENTY, MAD SEASON

 **TRIS PRIOR  
THE NEAR FUTURE - 9:47 p.m.  
DAUNTLESS FACTION - THE PIT**

The atmosphere was blistering white in its intensity, hazy with blue smoke illuminated by the strobe-like bursts of lights mingling into a toxic playground of heat and lust, sharp and pungent in its flavor. Bodies swayed, pressing against the other in time to the pulsating beat, hands entwining, bare skin teasingly caressed.

She leaned on the railing, absorbing the noise, the movement and the life of Dauntless below her.

Her degenerate best friend had arrived at her apartment earlier in the evening with a bottle a Vodka in hand and an overflowing bag of clothes and accessories, announcing that they needed to toast and celebrate the official demise of the worst relationship Christina had ever been forced to witness.

And the sad part was that she was right, Tris laughed lightly. The smug, satisfied bastards that were known as her friends were right.

Had she really been asleep for the past two years? What else had she missed or not noticed. She needed to wake up.

She needed to see Eric.

They had not spoken in over two weeks since the night he had arrived at her apartment bleeding. He had been sent to the Wall to supervise as part of his punishment for fighting with Four and she has been subjected to paperwork for leaving a naked Lauren dangling over the Chasm.

 _"I dream about you." his words echoed through her mind. "And I wake up knowing how you'll taste."_

His body had been warm, solid, relaxed against her back as he curved his muscular frame to her and Tris had burrowed her face against the warm strength of his neck, inhaling the faintly musky scent of his skin, unconsciously smiling.

She had not slept a full night since.

She missed him.

He understood her in a way that startled even her. It scared her.

What she had with Eric was dangerous, undeniably strong as if there was no choice, yearning for a man that was not hers. It simply was.

And that brought her here to this moment, to this night, to attending the annual Dauntless rave.

It was the rite of passage for any Dauntless member two years after entering the Faction, an unspoken order to intermix among the flashing lights and intoxicating rhythm.

And much to the glee of Christina, it was finally their year to attend.

She was not meant for this.

This was not who Beatrice Prior was.

Maybe she could blame Christina for misfortune.

There were moments when Tris cursed herself for befriending Christina during initiation. There clearly was a certain measure to pay for the former Candor to be named as her best friend and only confidant.

And this was one of times.

"Chris, I don't think this is the best idea -" Tris protested, crossing her arms protectively against her stomach.

"You're here, you're dressed, and you're going." Christina interrupted, her eyes narrowing. "It's a simple fact you have about two minutes to accept."

"Why is it important I be here? I was extremely content with staying home." Tris rubbed a tired hand against her aching temple.

"You were bored out of you ever fucking mind," Christina interrupted, smoothing her short hair down. "You were tempted to kiss me. That's how pleased you were I came to kidnap you from your nightly brooding."

"I don't brood." Tris denied. "Much."

"Jesus," Christina breathed, rolling her eyes. "You are the classic story of the good girl from Abnegation screaming to break free of the tasteless mold that was your Faction and behave sinfully bad. You're brave, my dear, there is no denying that, but for some reason you cannot accept the fact you are one of the most gorgeous girls in Dauntless and tonight everyone is going to know it."

"You don't understand, I don't think I can pull this off." Tris said, her insecurity almost suffocating her in its intensity as gesturing towards her outfit. "This is not me."

"Oh but it is, you just haven't realized it yet." Christina said, waving her hand towards the party. "This is all just a game, some mask, nothing that no one will remember in the years to come. Why not enjoy it now?"

Tris let out a weary sigh, knowing she was right. It was time to stop hiding. It was time to let go of the restrictions she placed on herself, forget the opinion of her former Faction, ignoring Four's opinion of what was best.

She could do this. She would do this.

"Besides the fact is you look fucking great. I knew you would, you just need to have little faith in my magic." Christine declared, a satisfied smile settling across her face. "I bet a certain Dauntless leader is going to cum in his pants when he sees you."

The tiny black halter top embellished with lace-up detail wrapped around her neck, leaving her shoulders and back bare, her toned midriff exposed. A dark red pleated plaid micro-mini skirt barely reached mid-thigh, her legs bare, elongated in a pair of platform black ankle boots.

"This is not about Eric."

"Please," Christina snorted, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Everything that involves you is about Eric Coulter. Whether you want to admit it or not."

"We're just friends...or co-workers..." Tris's voice trailed off as she thought silently or _people that may have randomly kissed_.

"A very convincing argument, initiate." Christina laughed, using Eric's special nickname. "I completely believe you."

"Fuck off, Chris."

"Look, tonight we're hot as hell and are at the legendary gathering all the Factions talk about. We're going to celebrate being young and being alive, understand? Dammit we're going to kiss some boys!" Christina declared, grabbing tall, frosty hot pink shots off the tray of a passing individual.

"And by kissing some boys, you mean Will?" Tris giggled, mentioning Christina's boyfriend of two years.

"Will or maybe some other lucky fool." Christina grinned wickedly, bumping into Tris's hip with her own. "Come on, just this once, please do not over-analyze it."

The burning liquid gave Tris chills as it slid down her throat, causing her to slightly choke.

"Good girl," Christina cheerfully exclaimed as she winced, nodding in agreement. "Ready for another?"

"Let's do this," Tris announced, her shoulders straightening, linking her arm through her best friend's, the multiple double shots of liquor coursing through her veins, spreading its warmth.

She barely stepped forward before faltering as she stared at the silhouette of his form through the haze, all rugged angles and sharp planes from his finely craved nose to his chiseled jaw and long fingers.

"You're fucking insane if you think I'm letting you on the floor looking like that tonight." Eric said, his tone pensive as he stood at the top of the stairwell leading to the Pit, staring at her now wet mouth, the impact of his physical presence taking her breath away.

His dark hair had been trimmed on the sides, the rest swept back of his forehead, in his faux hawk style. A black tee shirt covered his upper torso snuggly, outlining his flat, muscular stomach. Black jeans hung low on his hips revealing a bit of the dark green plaid boxers he wore underneath.

He moved with a laziness that was deceptive, the strong line of his back tapering down to his lean hips and long legs, a natural swagger of blasé confidence.

Tris flushed, the air hot against her damp skin, her head swimming with illicit images in almost a dreamlike manner, the burning grey blue of his eyes, intrusive and direct.

What she had with Eric was dangerous, undeniably strong as if there was no choice, it was simple chemical.

"Really? You're blocking my entrance? From what I understand, I'm required to attend this year." Tris teased, her tone amused, her straightened hair fell over her shoulders and back, resting against the swells of her breasts, shimmering honey colored strands, his eyes darkening as he caressed the body displayed so evocatively before him while Christina slipped past him unnoticed. "I know girls tonight will be wearing far less than this."

"I said no." Sensuality curled his upper lip that could either be cynicism or amusement as he stared down at her.

"You never objected to what I wore before. Why start now?"

"You also never showed up as the fantasy of every man's wet dream." His hand lifted, wrapping a smooth stand of hair around his finger.

Tris's eyes narrowed with the start of bad temper. She had finally worked the courage to actually attempt to enter the party in this outfit and now Eric was telling her no.

Who the fuck did he think he was? She wasn't his girlfriend, hell she wasn't even considered to one of his famed playtoys.

"You can't tell me what to wear Eric," she looked at him through thick black lashes. "I don't belong to you."

"Are you sure about that?"

"What if I ask nicely?" Her mouth, darkly glossed, curved upwards, teasing out the barest hint of a smile. "Say please, pretty please, Eric, let me go out and play?"

Eric could not respond, not with her image of her pouting at him etching into his memory. Her full lower lip was stuck out slightly, her bitter chocolate staring innocently into his as she tangled her fingers in his belt loops, pulling his body flush against her, her soft curve molding to his hard muscle. She brought her arms around his neck, twisting her fingers into his exposed hair as Eric leaned down, stroking his damp tongue across her lower lip.

"Eric!"

The moment was ruined as Tris jerked back, watching as a drunken Dauntless girl stumbled to Eric's side, wrapping her arms around his waist, her breasts pressing into his side.

"I've been looking for you."

"Stop," Eric ordered, pushing her face away from his, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"I don't understand baby," Amber whimpered innocently, battering her green eyes at him in confusion. "You're already hard and ready, what more do we need?"

Eric barely listened to her words, silently contemplating what he had ever really seen in her to begin with other than a quick fuck. She was demanding, loud and brash, always thinking she could win the games she attempted to play.

Amber trailed a finger down the side of his jaw, the other caressing his inner thigh, as she nipped at his neck in what she thought to be a seductive manner.

"You look well occupied Eric," Tris said, jealously underling her tone and a smirk came to his face. "I'll take that as my cue to leave."

"Tris," Eric warned. "We're not finished."

Tris arched her eyebrows watching as Amber moaned in his ear.

"We are," Tris countered, her hand resting on her cocked hip. "At least for now."

* * *

 **ERIC COULTER  
THE NEAR FUTURE - 11:17 p.m.  
DAUNTLESS FACTION - THE PIT**

Every nerve ending in Eric's body felt as if it were alive with her there dancing...dancing for him. Her body twisted and withed liquidly to the beat of the music, raw in untamed sexuality. Perceptively, he traced the lines of her body with his keen eyes, her hands moving over her hips, across her stomach, and up over her breasts as she tossed her head back.

She was teasing him. She knew he would be drawn to the flame.

Tris felt his warm breath on her neck, his hands firmly gripping her hipbones, moving with hers to the music.

She had never felt more alive.

"Having fun?" Eric drawled slowly, the dangerous mixture of smoke and alcohol on his breath.

She glanced over her shoulder, his blue eyes burning, a think sheen of sweat covering his face, clinging damply to his torso.

"As a matter of fact, I am," she twisted her lips, raising an arm, a droplet of sweat careened its way down her arm and dripped off her elbow. "Is there something you needed?"

"A dance." he murmured darkly, his breath ghosting against her skin.

"Just one?" she asked barely containing a moan as his length pressed heavily against her.

"It's all I'll need."

The music was fast, driven by the vocalist's roar and the frenzied, feral vibrations of the drummer's solo performance, as the wild, drunken laughter echoed throughout the dimly lit atmosphere.

They were on the edge of the dance floor, surrounded, and closed in, her slender body pressed to his, curves to angles, heat to heat. His hands guided her, slowly running across her hips, swaying to the pulsating beat, slowing, gentling with a kind of lazy deliberation that sent shimmering pleasure against her skin. A savage rush of delight, strong and possessive, coursed through Tris as she wrapped her arms around him neck, her fingers skimming into his hair, his forehead resting against her, blue trapping brown, darkening with intent.

They fit together perfectly as her hips cradled his, his thigh guided her, his fingers pressing into the silky flesh of her bare back that warmed beneath his touch. Her movements were slower, deliberate, the alcohol coursing through her veins, guiding her, tempting him.

Eric barely bit back a curse. He had never seen her move in such manner. As if the restrictions she had always placed on herself were wavering, vanishing.

God, how he wanted her.

Her hips cradled his, Eric's palms grazing the naked skin inside of her thigh, her skirt riding up at the invasion, his rough fingers sliding over her taunt curves.

His breathing grew ragged as his gaze trapped her in the animalistic possession she found there, pressing his erection snugly against her.

"You're so beautiful," his voice was strained and she shivered as his rough skin brushed over hers.

He couldn't resist her. Her skin was already damp, hot, he could feel her tremble as her breath caught on his name.

"I should have known you would run to him." Four's voice rang out, bitterness coating his tone. "You always do."

"Excuse me?" Tris snapped, her body going taunt at the interruption as her turned to face him, ignoring the sudden silence of the room as the playgoers attention became focused solely on the feuding exes. Four's nostrils flared, his cold eyes emotionless.

"Anytime we had an issue in this a relationship, a fight, you run to him, he comforts you and I become the bad guy."

"You become the bad guy?" Tris numbly repeated, shock claiming her features. "Four, you are the villain in this story! You cheated on me with me with my friend! What can you possibly say to justify that?"

"That my fiancée of a year is an ice princess cocktease that won't let me fuck her." Four hissed. placing his hands on his hips. "If you love me so much you would have let me touch you."

Tris felt a ripple behind her, sensing that Eric was braced for an attack either verbally or physically, and quickly swung out her hands to grip his tattooed forearms. "Don't, it won't help." Eric's gaze softened slightly when he saw the strength in his eyes, one that had fascinated him and nodded his agreement.

She neither needed their anger nor protection.

"Maybe I was ready Four," a cynically amused smile curled their corner of her full lips, a predatory gleam to her darkly shadowed eyes. "But you would never know since you were to balls deep in my friend to notice. That's your mistake. I won't settle for less than anything but complete trust. Not even for you."

"It's almost laughable." Four's announcement caused her to pause.

"What is?"

"This," Four motioned between herself and Eric. "The leader and his prized initiate. The man that no one can touch except one little girl from Abnegation."

Tris felt her breath catch in the back of her throat. She knew he was right.

Cold, driven, no one had been able to penetrate any reaction from the young Dauntless either on the field or in his management.

Until Tris Prior.

His enemy's fiancée had changed the rules.

She was the only one who dared to step close to her in his anger and was the only one ever allowed to touch him when he felt as if he were coming apart at the seams.

But she was not his. They were not together, never together, despite the fire barely contained beneath the smiles and lingering glasses. They were forbidden.

Because of Four.

Because of her hidden Divergence.

And Four had been jealous. Angered by the unspoken connection the understanding, naturalness he had been denied his entire relationship.

Four stood, breathing harshly through his nose as he heard the whispers, commenting on the scene, how pathetic he was for losing Tris in favor of a slut.

She was the cause of this. The cause for the stares, the whispers, his grief.

"Did you give him what you refused me? You let him taste you..." Four's accusation was interrupted as Eric lunged at him, gripping the front of his shirt, yanking him forward.

"I don't recommend you finishing that statement, my friend." Eric warned, but Four leaned back, his fist cracking across his face causing Eric to stumble and release his grip.

That was all it took. Years of pent up frustration, anger and jealously poured free reign over the two men as they struggled together, fists, teeth clenched and bare.

"Stop it!" Tris cried, pushing forward, attempting to place herself between them. "You're acting like children!"

Eric staggered back as he looked at Four, fury smoldering in his eyes. "What?" Almost coaxing the other man.

She heard the challenge in his tone but before she could pull him back, Four snarled and charged forward, his body colliding with Eric's.

Eric felt his body stumble from the violent thrust, his breath forcefully catching as they fell crashing into those around, shattering glass. He groaned as a pressured pain radiated from his head, his back stiff against the hard ground. He rolled to the side, spitting the blood that filled his mouth to the ground, his muddled mind registering that they were now surrounded by Dauntless members. Their shouting was muffled, tones filled with stunned disbelief at the sight before them.

"Fuck Four," he hissed, pushing his protesting body upwards as Four moaned beside him.

"She's mine, goddammit." Four slurred, spitting the blood that filled his mouth to the ground, finally rising to a standing position, weaving slightly. "Mine."

"Really? Cause the way she moves under my fingers proves that theory wrong." Eric taunted. "She's not yours. Not anymore. You fucking Lauren made sure of that."

"Golden boy," Four hissed. "You think all of this yours. That you just take whatever you. Whoever you want."

"Stop! The both of you. Fucking grow up. I'm not some toy you get to fight over." She heard the challenge in his tone as she placed herself in front of Eric, her hand on his chest, but his eyes remained locked on Four. "Don't touch me. Don't touch Eric. You're a liar and a cheat and I don't want you in my life. Don't talk to me, don't think of me. I intend to forget everything associated with you."

Eric reacted with amazing speed as Four lunged for her, blinded by his fury. His fist connected with his stomach, grabbing Tris's hand at the same time, pulling her behind his back, making sure he stayed in front of her.

"Don't touch her."

Four straightened, his gaze sharpening, jealously burning in his gut.

"So, this is what you've been reduced too, Tris. Being Eric's whore. Deluding yourself into thinking you would ever be anything else than his slut." he spat.

The words were barely out of his mouth before Eric's fist uppercutted his chin, snapping his teeth shut as he collapsed to the side.

"Are you finished boy?" Eric taunted, stretching his arms out to the side, mocking him with the lazy movement. "Or do you want to keep up with this humiliation?"

"Rather a slut that than you wife." Tris stated and before he could react her foot lashed out, connecting with Four's face, knocking his head back.

"Fuck!"

"You have a little blood there, you might want to clean that up." Tris said, motioning towards with corner of his mouth which Four swiped at with a fierce glare as she stepped away, heading for the entrance. "Now as I said before. Leave me alone."

Eric rubbed a hand against his stubble haw, the gesture failing to hide his smirk.

She looked angelic yet corruptible.

An adorable pout, playful, seductive nature that was becoming impossible to resist.

All the much fire for Four to handle.

Barely a few steps away, Tris felt her ar,m being grabbed and gasped at the contact of Eric's warm, muscled body. Her pulse began to beat faster, her breath rapid and shallow and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, gently wetting it, his gaze growing lazy with intent as he watched the movement.

"This can't happen. Not here."

"It's too fucking late for that, Tris," he whispered savagely, fitting her more tightly into the curve of his body with the pressure of his arms, and bending his head down, destroying her last attempts at sanity. "Far too late."

He saw her full, soft lips part as she started to say something and a hunger rose up in him like a tidal wave, crashing down and sweeping everything else away.

His mouth was hot and wild, hard and deep. Tris gripped the front of his shirt, the force of his mouth opened hers, and he took her with his tongue. He held her to him with painful pressure, crushing her breasts against him, cradling her against the aching ridge of his manhood.

Vaguely she heard other people around them. It didn't matter. He increased the slant of his head, tucking hers more firmly into his shoulder, arousing her, satisfying her, consuming her. His tongue damp, tracing hers in a wicked pattern she had long forgotten, his fingers caressing the bare skin of her shoulders.

Her heart lurched as pleasure overrode shock, swiftly escalating to an almost unbearable tension. She met the intrusion of his tongue with her own, he shuddered and for a moment his arms tightened so fiercely that she moaned into his mouth.

This, she thought, is life. The beginnings.

This was everything.

 **"I need you now"**


End file.
